Remembering Destruction
by Ashley K
Summary: Five years after Voldemort's final death, Harry Potter remembers and relives the fear
1. Default Chapter

Title: Remembering Destruction Author: Ashley K. Disclaimer: No, I own nothing familiar. That belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowlings. Please don't sue. Summary: Five years since the final destruction of Voldemort, but Harry Potter still remembers.  
  
Prologue: Nightmares  
  
The blinding flash of green light.  
  
Hermione's sudden scream of despair.  
  
His own counterspell, the unforgivable spell he had learned in secret, practicing on insects and rodents. Another flash of green light.  
  
The eerie silence of shocked horror.  
  
Then blackness, so much blackness. And the lingering smell of death and vomit.  
  
Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the man who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named, jolted awake, inner demons catching up to him.  
  
Yet. Again.  
  
Drenched in sweat and shivering with.not fear, but not cold. Dread.  
  
"Harry?" his wife, a Muggle, to whom his nightmares and former life was unknown, asked sleepily. "What is it?"  
  
"Just a bad dream, Anne," Harry said, sitting up in their bed. "I'll be back," he whispered, placing a loving kiss on her forehead.  
  
Muttering that she heard him, Anne rolled over and fell back asleep. Harry smiled at her innocent form.  
  
Walking down into the basement, Harry checked over his shoulder, double- checking to see that his wife hadn't followed him. She didn't.  
  
Whispering an unheard word, a Latin-sounding Dr. Seuss word to anyone who could have heard it, a panel opened to another, unknown room of the Potter house.  
  
A soft owl hoot greet him. "Hello Hedwig," Harry said, greeting his old owl amicably. "Are you feeling up for a long journey?"  
  
The snowy owl hooted back, an affirmative sound. "It's going to England, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Not looking at the walls that housed moving pictures of happier times, Harry wrote a letter, quickly. He sadly smiled. Once he would have used parchment paper and a quill, with maroon ink, to send this letter. Once he would have sent out two other letters.  
  
Suddenly he stopped writing and ripped the regular piece of lined paper with blue ball-point ink scribblings up. Professor Dumbledore would not be interested in a former-hero's nightmares. He started another.  
  
That one was also ripped up and discarded.  
  
Anne's scream of terror stopped him from writing another letter.  
  
Racing up the stairs, not brothering to close his secret door, but taking the time to grab his wand (eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple) Harry Potter made it to his wife and his bedroom just in time to see a familiar mark lingering in the bedroom.  
  
And his Anne.  
  
Lying there.  
  
Eyes open.  
  
Pure terror written across her face.  
  
Just. Like. Ron.  
  
"NOOOO!!!!" Harry screamed, reaching for her still (too still) form, cradling it gently, kissing her still-warm lips.  
  
Apparating was a licensed skill. Harry had not apparated in many years.  
  
Without second thought, he apparated for the first time in five years. 


	2. Return To Diagon Alley

Part One: Return to Diagon Alley  
  
Magda Mollbury was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron nursing another tankard of ale. Suddenly a tall, well-muscled, tanned young man with an unruly shock of black-as-pitch hair and emerald green eyes appeared. "'Ello! I wasn't 'cepting any vistors!" She smiled.  
  
The young man's eyes turned towards her. The look he gave her silenced her. No, not the look, she amended. The emptiness of his look silenced her.  
  
Without a word, he stood and walked to the entrance of Diagon Alley.  
  
She ordered another tankard.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ His first stop was to Gringotts. He still, a force of habit he had been unable to break over the course of five years, carried his little key with him. Always. Anne had (his eyes watered over that past tense and then he sniffed them back) always teased him about the little gold key he always wore hanging from his neck.  
  
"What is that for, Harry Michael?" She would ask, pretty blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Your secret diary? The one written with how much you love me?"  
  
"Of course, Annie Mae," he would tease back, before catching her in a tight, passionate embrace.  
  
The goblin was staring at him. Harry shook out of his reverie. "I'm here to take some money out of my safe."  
  
"Of course, Mr. Potter. Do you have your key?" the goblin asked. Harry nodded and presented it to him. The goblin took it and inspected the key. He nodded and called another goblin to escort him down to the vault.  
  
Harry said nothing during the whole ride. The goblin didn't mind or didn't care.  
  
Once he reached his long-locked safe, Harry took out enough funds to get him to Hogwarts, to get him properly outfitted and equipped.  
  
To buy another broom.  
  
He pause, unsure if he should take out the only non-monetary item in the safe. He did.  
  
His father's invisibility cloak.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Harry frowned at the massive amount of children running around the streets. What day was it? He mentally asked himself. He winced as he remembered.  
  
August 28th, three days before the Hogwarts Express took its precious cargo for the very first time, for some, the very last for others. Either way, one of his problems would be solved. Getting to Hogwarts.  
  
Writing a quick note to Professor Dumbledore, Harry sent it off with one of the common post owls, before realizing that he had just left Hedwig without any food or water. He sighed. The window was open, she'd be at Hagrid's before tomorrow.  
  
Tiredly, he and his packages made the voyage up to his room in the Leaky Cauldron.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"He's here," an unfamiliar voice whispered. "Harry Potter is back."  
  
"Did you hear? His Muggle wife had been murdered.probably by the former hero himself," a sarcastic voice not-so-quietly said. "Using the damned unforgivable."  
  
"Unless you are Harry-bloody-Potter," the first voice cut in.  
  
"Excuse me," Harry interrupted, sick of hearing the accusations. He *had* gotten rid of the one threat to the wizarding world. It was just because it wasn't by *their* standards that he had become an outcast. "I'm trying to sleep."  
  
Stunned silent, the two men nodded dumbly.  
  
Harry went back into his room, shut the door. "Accio wand," he whispered, wand-less magic easy for him, easier than anything else in the magical world. His wand jumped into his hand. "Silencio room," he brokenly whispered. A strange mist encircled the room, making it sound-proof.  
  
Sobs, great racking sobs, erupted from his mouth. "Anne," he screamed. "Ron!"  
  
"Anne.Ron."  
  
The great, once-hero, Harry Potter sobbed himself to sleep that night, visions of Anne and Ron lingering in his mind.  
  
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron's eleven-year-old voice said in a tone of reverent awe and wonder in it. "Oh - well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. And have you really got - you know..." he asked, pointing to Harry's scar. Excited eyes stared at the lightning bolt scar. "So that's were You-Know-Who--?"  
  
The scenes jumped and he wasn't on the Hogwarts Express anymore. Suddenly they were in a manor house, a great big, cold manor house. Harry winced in his sleep, he knew where they were.  
  
Hermione suddenly appeared. "Harry, this isn't a good idea. We should wait for the Aurors."  
  
"Oh, put a sock in it, Mione!" Ron's voice, much deeper than before, rang out. "There's nothing the three of us can't handle!"  
  
"The Three Musketeers!" Harry injected. Their jesting chased away the slight fear each had in deep inside them. Voldemort. After one of Hemione's more ingenious ideas, they were able to place a tracking spell on Voldemort, using Harry's scar as the necessary link.  
  
"Afterall, it *is* a psychic link," Hermione bossily said.  
  
"Hello.Harry Potter," Voldemort's funny-sounding voice rasped out. "You brought company."  
  
"Company?" Ron scoffed. "More like backup!"  
  
"I couldn't have put it better myself," Voldemort said, smirking. "All your life, Ronald Weasley, you have spent your whole life always one step behind somebody. You could have been great. But, alas, it is too late for change."  
  
Before any of them could react, Voldemort lifted his wand, the brother wand to Harry's, in his own ingenious idea. He couldn't use his own wand against Harry, but he could against the people Harry loved. "Aveda Kedavra!"  
  
The flash of green light.  
  
Hemione's scream of shocked torment. Harry watched as Voldemort turned his attention to her. "NOOO!" he screamed, or maybe just imagined he screamed, Harry still didn't know. Without thinking, he grabbed Ron's fallen wand and uttered the same words Voldemort just uttered. "AVEDA KEDAVRA!"  
  
The scene jumped again. He was living in America this time, living as a Muggle, going to a strange place called a 'university,' Michigan State University, to be exact. He was lost, studying magic his whole life had not prepared him for living as a Muggle. He bought a computer, his first purchase in the Muggle world, and donated his beloved Thunderbolt, giving it to the next Gryffindor Seeker.  
  
He worked out a lot, filling his gangly frame with muscle. He ran a lot more. He didn't make any friends. He didn't want to make any more friends. It was too risky. Hermione, they tried to stay friends, but it was impossible.  
  
He cut off all ties to the wizarding world, giving Hedwig to Hagrid to take care of.  
  
Harry ignored the whispers about him, whenever he went into the cafeteria for his meals. He tried not to speak too much in class, not to ask too many questions in public. He went to help room hours, learned his Muggle lessons.  
  
The end of his freshman year, Harry finally opened up. His roommate, a Muggle, Mitch, asked him out of the blue one day, "Potter what the fuck is up your ass?"  
  
"Fuck off, Redding," Harry answered, not bothering to look up from his calc book.  
  
"No, you fuck off, Potter. You and your 'higher than thou' British Royalty attitude. You fucking suck, man."  
  
"You don't know the half of it," Harry agreed.  
  
The two roommates, who had been living, all year, trying to ignore each other, stared at one another, before laughing. They laughed harder than either had before in their life. And when they were done, Mitch opened his mini-fridge and pulled out a beer for himself. He hesitated before pulling one out for Harry as well.  
  
"Cheers mate," Harry said, before taking a long swallow. He promptly spit it out.  
  
The scene jumped once more. End of his senior year. A small, classy, list- party in his and Mitch's apartment.  
  
"Potter, did you invite that babe over there?" John, one of their friends asked, pointing to a petite little thing with honey-blonde hair and startling blue eyes.  
  
"No," Harry said, unable to take his eyes off of her. He had long since gotten contact lenses and his own startling eyes were visible.  
  
"Hi! I'm Anne Hudson," she introduced herself. "I know, I know, I wasn't invited. But.I heard you talking about it and.I wanted to get to know you better."  
  
John smiled cockily. "I'm John Mackette."  
  
"Not you," Anne dismissed him with a wave of her small, ring-less hand. "You."  
  
"Harry Potter," Harry said, smiling.  
  
"I love you."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Who are you, Harry?"  
  
"Where did you come from?"  
  
"Why don't you have a past?"  
  
"Do you, Anne Hudson take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, till death do you part?"  
  
"Do you, Harry Potter take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish and love, till death do you part?"  
  
"Till death do you part."  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
"Harry!"  
  
"Harry." 


	3. Hogwarts

Part Two: Hogwarts  
  
"Is that Harry Potter?"  
  
"I think it is! Why do you think he's here?"  
  
"I dunno.do you?"  
  
"Why would I ask you that, you stupid git?"  
  
Harry sighed. Somethings would never change. No matter why they what they were whispering, he would always be on the minds and mouths of witches and wizards. He closed his eyes, hoping for a refuge from the nightmares that had been plaguing his sleep. The next thing he was aware of was the whistling of the train, signifying their arrival.  
  
He walked to the castle, opting not to ride in the carriages with the students.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"Harry Potter," Albus Dumbledore greeted Harry, hugging him with the strength of a man much younger than himself.  
  
"Hello, Professor," Harry said. Professor Dumbledore stared into the young man's eyes and wanted to cry. The impish spark that had always, even after the mess with Diggory and the revival of Voldemort, been there had disappeared.  
  
Prof. Dumbledore saw Harry open his mouth, to speak. "I know, Harry," he interrupted. "The Ministry's looking into it. Until then.Hogwarts was once your home. Consider it your home once more."  
  
"Thank you," Harry said.  
  
"There is one thing you could do for me," Prof. Dumbledore interjected. "I am an old man. I have surpassed all the Professors who had taught you. I am retiring next year. However, we do need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. It would appear that the job is still 'jinxed.'"  
  
"Of course," Harry said, grateful for a distraction.  
  
"Just follow the course outline," Dumbledore gently told him. "It is time for the feast, however, you do remember the feast?"  
  
How could he forgot? Nodding, Harry followed Dumbledore into the Great Hall. He looked at his fellow Professors. Indeed the staff had changed, mostly to people he didn't recognize, save a couple.  
  
There was Neville Longbottom, sitting in Professor Sprout's old seat.  
  
Lavender Brown in the rarely used seat of Professor Trawnely.  
  
Draco Malfoy in the old seat of Professor Snape.  
  
And, much to his surprise, Hermione seated in Professor McGongall's space.  
  
She recognized him at the same time he recognized her. Both their faces turned an ashy white. Both closed their eyes, a futile attempt to ward off the memory of Ron's death. Both fought the urge to cover their ears to block off the sounds long since made.  
  
Neither said a word to each other.  
  
"Potter," Draco greeted, no malice behind his words.  
  
The rest of the staff nodded their hellos.  
  
"Hermione," Harry said, unsure of what else to say.  
  
"Hi," she shyly said.  
  
The feast went by, without a hitch. The recently sorted students went off to their separate dorms. Hermione went to make a quick get away. Harry stopped her, without realizing why.  
  
"We should talk," Harry said, saying the first thing that came to mind.  
  
"Yes," she answered, nodding. "We'll go to my office."  
  
They walked a familiar path to Prof. McGonagall's old office. Harry almost smiled at the memories that invaded him the moment he stepped foot in the office.  
  
All the times he and Ron had been sent there, to be punished.  
  
"Yes, you two did get in a lot of trouble," Hermione said, smiling softly.  
  
He must have spoken out loud. "You helped," he gently said.  
  
"Only because if I didn't you two would have raced in, unprepared." she trailed off. That was exactly what had happened that Day.  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Harry said.  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione said.  
  
"Hermione, it was," Harry said. Hermione opened her mouth to disagree. He put a hand up, stopping her from speaking. "I was the one who Voldemort was after. I was the one who kept putting you two in danger. I was the one who Voldemort couldn't have hurt with his own wand. I was, maybe indirectly, the only one at fault."  
  
They sat there for a moment, in silence. "I was the one who got Anne killed. I told myself not to get attached to anyone. And I did. And she's dead now because of it. We were only married nine months, Hermione. Nine months. She only knew me a year. And she's dead because of it."  
  
Hermione was silent.  
  
"What was Anne like?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Beautiful," Harry answered, after a moment's thought. "She was only a Muggle, but she had so much insight. She was so trusting, so loving. Anne could walk into a room and make the world stop. She was unpredictable, saying she loved me one moment, the next she would be throwing a dish towards me. She would kiss me, Mione, and whisper that everything would be alright, when I woke up from a nightmare. Anne didn't ask for anything, but she gave everything.  
  
"For her birthday I took her out to on a picnic. It started to rain. I wanted, so badly, to stop the rain for her, because she looked so disappointed for a minute. Then she laughed and started dancing in the rain, drinking the droplets that fell. Her hair was a mess, her make-up running, her clothes sticking to her body. I proposed right then. I didn't mean to, but I did. She stopped dancing and said 'what took you so long to ask?' God, I miss her."  
  
"She sounds like she was perfect for you," Hermione said, tears in her eyes. Her childhood friend was so.empty now. He spoke of his deceased wife in a monotone voice, unable to show emotion.  
  
"She was," Harry said. "Ron would have loved her."  
  
"I would have loved her," Hermione said.  
  
Harry looked up and saw a picture of the three of them, right before Ron died. Their moving picture was laughing a playing around, just like they had been in life. "I miss him. I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry Ron."  
  
Harry set his jaw. "Hermione, I want you to stay away from me. As much as possible."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Bad things happen to my best friends," Harry said. "My parents, Ron, Anne.I don't want to be responsible for your death too."  
  
"Harry." Hermione trailed off. Harry stood up and walked out of her office.  
  
"What are we going to do about this?" she asked the picture of the three of them.  
  
"Don't let him be alone," picture-Ron answered. She smiled, happy that she enchanted the picture to speak, just like the portraits in the hallways.  
  
"That's me? I'm a bloody stupid American!" picture-Harry said, unhappy.  
  
"I love you, Ron. I miss you," Hermione said softly. It was not a known fact that Hermione and Ron had been lovers the last year of his life. "I love you Harry. I miss you." 


End file.
